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Turns out there have been times in my life where I wasn’t as smart as I thought.

2nd Newsflash. This happens more than I would like to admit (some may even say daily…).

I was reminded of this a few nights ago when a former student/player stopped by to visit.

Personally, I wish all former students/players would leave me alone. Haven’t I done enough for them (oh, I haven’t… alright then…)?

They make me feel old with their college degrees, careers, marriages, kids, and the fact they have aged so much in the last 15 years (I’m glad I don’t look any older…).

This concept of former students is not working for me. The fact that their lives are moving forward is an ever so subtle hint that I may be getting older (lucky for me… I don’t respond to subtle hints…).

It’s really quite uncomfortable for me.

They not only make me wonder why life is moving so quickly, but they also have better memories than me.

I’m in my 7th year as a school administrator (for those of you counting at home… that’s 49 years if I were principal of a kennel).

When you have been in administration as long as I have it does strange things to you (somewhere there is a principal or superintendent starting his or her 40th year that is mocking me… and I mean mocking me more than usual).

My personality has been forever changed since I left teaching. I’ve lost something and it has taken me the longest time to figure out what.

Yesterday, it came to me.

I’ve lost my moods.

When I was younger, I had a wide range of different moods.

Happy, sad, excited, angry, jealous, fear, guilt, and all the rest.

After seven long years (that have flown by) I am left with only two moods.

Grumpy and Three-Day-Weekend.

Even when I’m experiencing the Three-Day Weekend euphoria… it always comes crashing down on Sunday night… which means grumpy returns.

Grumpy sounds bad, but it really isn’t.

It’s just a combination of extremely busy, slightly overwhelmed, mixed in with a hint of worry (on a good day… on a bad day there is a lot of worry).

Mrs. Mimi, the author, describes herself as a public school teacher who loves her job but is routinely frustrated by all the drama that is created by the other ADULTS…so she has to make it funny so she doesn’t routinely poke herself in the eye.

As I have written in the past, I seldom read blogs. But this one is a must.

My friends are jazzed. It is almost vacation and it is all they can do to hold it together. I am also barely holding it together as I alternate between panicking over how much I have left to do before the holidays and fantasizing about all that extra sleep…

In my classroom, it is time for wrapping everything up so that we can start fresh in ’09. Today I asked Curly Girl (no, not Curly, but one of my new super faves….it just so happens she also has curly hair. Maybe I am curl-ist? Pro-curls? ) to work on a special project at the back of the classroom with Smarty Pants (another girl who I am totally digging lately. I know, what’s with all the girls as faves since I typically love the bad boys…). They are independent and basically total rock stars so I knew I could trust them.

The rest of my friends were on the carpet when Smarty Pants enthusiastically raises her hand and says, “We need help!”

Thinking that they just need more paint or something, I say, “What is it?”

Smarty Pants answers, “Curly Girl just peed all over herself and the floor and we need help with the puddle.”

Ah, yes. Of COURSE that’s the problem. Urine is just what I need to make my tenuous hold on the class’ brimming excitement to dissolve into nothing.

Oddly though, no one laughed or said anything. I knew they heard Smarty Pants. So what was the deal? Was this empathy? A mature response? Or perhaps, is no listening to a freaking thing this close to vacation?

As soon as I send the rest of the group back to their seats, I make my way to the back of the classroom to check out Curly Girl and her infamous puddle. Expecting to find her sobbing behind the art center, I am surprised when I see her diligently painting away, with her pants rolled up to her knees to stay out of the puddle, acting as if nothing has happened.

Me: Curly Girl, are you OK? What happened?
Curly Girl: I BURST!
Me: (Trying not to laugh) Why didn’t you ask to go to the bathroom?
Curly Girl: I was so into the project that I just didn’t.
Me: (Shocked that Curly Girl is handling this better than I am.) What can I do to help you?
Curly Girl: You know anyone who can take care of this? (Indicates puddle of pee.)
Me: Um, yea. (still tyring not to laugh). What can I do for YOU? Do you want to go to the bathroom and I’ll call mom?
Curly Girl: Sounds good…let me just finish this up.

And she happily goes back to painting. A couple of minutes later, she cleans off her paint brush, nimbly leaps over her own pee and heads to the bathroom.

When mom arrives with a clean pair of pants, I tell her the story. Mom and I have a good laugh while Curly Girl goes to the bathroom yet again, this time to change her pants. It is close to the end of the day, so I tell her it is OK if she wants to go home with mom. She insists on staying in school, stating, “Hey, it was just a little pee.”

Words of wisdom from my little friend that I am going to use to get me through the rest of the holidays. When I am freaking out about not having the right bow, or only getting through the Ws on my Christmas card list, I will think, “hey, it’s all just a little pee.”

This spring school districts all across the country were burdened with the decision about what to do if their community experienced an outbreak of the dreaded Pig Flu (not as catchy, I know).

Government officials were happy to do their part to fan the crisis.

The Department of Diseases Contracted from Filthy Farm Animals (which I personally didn’t even know existed) put out daily emails explaining what schools should do if one of their students had the flu.

I appreciated their guidance in the first few emails. Though, I must admit my interest waned after email #154 (and this came in day 2 of our long national Swine Flu crisis).

To the amazement of no one (other than government officials), schools have a pretty good handle on kids who are ill.

Personally, I have a standard reaction when a student gets sick in the hallway.

Step One: I try not to step in it.

Step Two: I try not to breathe so I don’t throw up in the hallway (no one likes the Vomit Chain Reaction).

Step Three: I send the student to the office so the nurse can comfort them until mom, dad, or grandma can come and pick them up (it always seems like grandma… never grandpa… another one of education’s great mysteries).

Step Four: Call a custodian and ruin his/her day by telling them a 1st grader’s stomach just exploded (I have never seen a custodian smile after receiving this dreaded news… and they should because it could have been something worse than the stomach explosion).

Step Five: Involves Mom/Dad/Grandma. They simply keep the child home until he or she feels better.

It’s a tried and true plan.

Simple but effective.

And it served us well before the Department of Diseases Contracted from Filthy Farm Animals came along.

The problem wasn’t that the government wanted us to take this situation seriously, it was the media’s overreaction to the entire event.

WHAT?

Yes, I said it. The media overreacts.

And then they beat the overreaction to death.

This goes on and on and on and on until a more exciting story comes along.

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While this site operates with the knowledge and awareness of the Tuscola CUSD #301 School Board, Tuscola, Illinois, the content and opinions posted here may or may not represent their views personally or collectively, nor does it attempt to represent the official viewpoint of Tuscola CUSD #301 administrators or employees.